


Things That Haunt

by mirvhenan



Series: Things That Haunt [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, dragon - Fandom
Genre: Act 2, Dragon Age - Freeform, Dragon Age 2 - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Other, fenhawke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 09:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21505549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirvhenan/pseuds/mirvhenan
Summary: The burdens of a dying family rest of the shoulders of one woman. The bones of a city are strung together by the trials of her people. They whisper Hawke in the night like she was Kirkwall's genuine success story. Were it only so easy.Night terrors begin to plague Hawke following the death of her mother. Her companions decide to step up and help her through her grief, yet something arcane seems afoot.Rated mature for blood/language/gore/trauma/sexual scenes.
Relationships: Fenris/Female Hawke
Series: Things That Haunt [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550119
Kudos: 8





	Things That Haunt

**Author's Note:**

> First fic ive written in awhile? god yes. first dragon age fic? god, no. basically i love my hawke so much im delving into the deteriorating mental health of her and subsequent healing/moving on. bless up
> 
> anyways, sorry if this sucks, but thanks for reading

The Hawke residence is quiet. For once, the warrior's many friends were not staying the night, taking turns keeping the hearth warm as they had been these past few hapless weeks. They had been rotating out as they could- Sebastian would always say a prayer for Hawke and spend his shift reading in the study. Then, Aveline- when she could get away for a night- and she would bring any paperwork to keep busy. She was vigilant but clearly, she was just as rattled as the Hawkes had been. Varric would, of course, come the most. Two or three nights a week. He never did sleep much those days anyway, so it wasn't much of a sacrifice. Isabella would come too, even if only to keep her friends company. Anders was the one who truly got no sleep these days. They all felt for him the most, strangely. Even if by day, he was back to being tense and irritable. During the night he seemed like he was more like himself, as though it was his duty to see the night through alone. Nobody could tell when it was he found the time to rest, though.

But it had been Merrill's turn that night. She had dropped by right as Hawke seemed to drift off. Bodahn sat in a chair by the fireplace with a sack of potatoes and a pocket knife in his worn hands. He greeted the little Dalish woman with a smile, but once she entered he didn't even let her set down her basket before waving her off.

"Oh, no you don't, Merrill. Go home and get some rest. I've decided it's old Bodahn's turn to see the night through."

"But, but," she began in protest. "I've brought nivel green and mint for a nice tea, and even some twine to do some-"

"I insist, dear, I insist. And besides, she hasn't had a fit so far this week and Aveline has been coaxing her out of her room. She even went on a walk with Varric, did you know?"

"Oh! Well, I don't want to impose," she said following a nervous laugh. The elfling sat down the dried, bundled herbs along the counter on Hawke's desk. "I'll just leave these here, perhaps Anders would like to use them."

Bodahn saw Merrill to the door with a few more well-wishes before watching her creep back through the streets of Hightown, then out of sight and around a corner. Once he returned to his chair, the small smile he wore for Merrill began to fade. He, too, was shaken by the wretched mood the month had brought. A layer of darkness draped the Hawke Estate now. It was heavy and unbearable, latching on to all of the friends who had trudged through every evening to see to Hawke. 

It was getting better, though. The grief seeping through the threshold had been slowly but surely absorbed. The young warrior had friends, had a family that loved her and were there to guard her in a state of weakness- it was almost akin to devotion. And so, reality had slowly begun to bleed back into their world. From behind this stoney estate, life in Kirkwall did have to continue after all. Bodahn had seen to all of the well wishes, requests, and inquiries that came to the estate- but they were beginning to pile up. Ruffles, Hawke’s Mabari hound, lapped loudly in his sleep before switching positions on the floor next to the fire. This made the old dwarf chuckle. Perhaps things would be okay, he tried to tell himself.

The night went on silently when there was a brisk rapping at the door. At first, Bodahn thought that perhaps Merrill had forgotten something? But there was another when he did not get up fast enough. The soft Dalish one always tapped kindly. Thinking it was urgent, he looked through the peephole, only to be met with a figure that filled him with immediate surprise. “Oh dear,” he mumbled, as he scrambled to unlock the door and peeped through.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Messere?” Asked the dwarf in a hushed voice.

A tall, looming elf glowered down at him. “It is late, but I wish to speak with her.” His words were prompt and direct.

“Ah, my lady Hawke is asleep already. But you are free to step inside a moment. It's cold out tonight.”

Fenris paused at his offer, his feet stiffening in place. Although reluctant for yet a moment, it was clear he reconsidered when he swiftly stepped inside. Bodahn shut the door behind him. “Perhaps I shall just leave a message,” Fenris spoke as they made their way back to the parlor, “If you would...let her know when she awakens.”

“Certainly, I’m sure she’d be very happy to hear from you."

Fenris made his way to the study and Bodahn followed. "I.. understand she has not been leaving her home. Since the funeral."

Bodahn started with a sigh. "Yes, Lady Amell’s death has been hard on her." He played with his hands, looking down with a face of defeat. A shroud of guilt ebbed from his core as he watched Fenris write. 

He was a slow writer, and it took him a while to come up with words. When Hawke first began teaching him, his handwriting was unreadable- now it was sturdy and not so infantile. He would often leave messages, or send letters when Hawke was away or when they couldn't meet. With each note, he could feel writing come easier. But that was months ago before he let her down. If he did leave messages now, they were concise and to the point.

Fenris felt as though the only time she would see him now was when they were with any other company. All just to choke out the uneasiness. It was easier to simply meet during a get together at the Hanged Man. He started playing Wicked Grace with Varric and Aveline more often if only to be in the same room as Hawke. Her eyes would lift from her drink to glance in his direction, and he would pretend as though he couldn't feel them from across the room. Then she would look away again and he could feel his heart drop. The words exchanged between them became simple, if there were any at all. Perhaps she hated him. Perhaps she merely respected his wishes.

And yet despite all he had done, she came for him in her hour of need. Him. The look of fear and desperation on her face was permanently printed in his mind's eye. The quaking of her fingers tightly pursed around a white lily, the lump in her throat as she asked for his help. Neither the rage that followed nor the carnal vengeance that carved through both of the blood mages responsible shook him as much as her initial haplessness. Her emotions bore into his soul as if they were his. Fenris could picture himself where she stood, blood mages taking away everything that was his, and it made him both enraged for her and utterly terrified. Terrified of what else magic would take from Hawke.

And...he wanted her to know that.

He just didn’t know how to put that into words yet.

“.....Messere, I can't find it in me to keep it from you,” Bodahn began from the edge of the study door. Fenris perked up, somewhat confused. “The others asked me not to tell you, but I think you could help my lady, too.”

“What do you mean, dwarf?” Fenris asked. He let down the quill and started towards him.

Bodahn turned his gaze up the stairs at Hawke’s door. “It’s Lady Hawke. She's been in a daze since it all happened. Hardly left her home, besides for the funeral. I know you were aware of that already but that's not the whole of it.”

Fenris rose a brow. He had only come by to console Hawke in the aftermath and watched from the shadows of the service the day they scattered Leandra’s ashes. But since then he hadn’t wanted to disturb her, knowing full well his presence likely did more harm than good. Every time Fenris had seen her between then had been filled with a lot of silence, staring into a crackling fire together with a head of messy black hair leaned against him. He...assumed things like that took time. To get better. And more heartbreak wouldn’t have helped her. Fenris being there wasn't going to make things better, and he had his own demons to deal with. Even then, the need to be apart of her life was...immense. Was there something more than he hadn’t known? Had he not been vigilant enough?

“Keeping what from me? Has something happened?”

“It’s just the two of you have always been so close, perhaps if you spoke with her it’d help her get better sooner. Her health as of late...it’s been…”

Fenris cut him off. “Hawke has been sick? Had no one thought to tell me?” Perhaps he was being selfish. How could he know if he never came around? What was he expecting? No, someone would have said. Varric, or Isabella. “Why?”

As if on cue, a piercing, blood-curdling scream erupted from within the home. It echoed from upstairs, followed by a thump and the sound of glass shattering on the floor. In an instant, Fenris made for the stairs. He had no time to think, his body reacted immediately. Bodahn followed quickly after him.

“Hawke? Hawke!” Fenris called out but was only met with a continuing scream. He threw her door open, but the sight before the elf made him freeze at the frame of the entrance.

On the floor of her bedroom, scrambling against her bed in a state of panic was Hawke. The shattered glass had already cut into her palms as she had been wriggling on the floor, struggling to get away from something. It was akin to a small animal in fight or flight, the way she inched backward in utter distress. She screeched like a banshee as tears streamed down her face and she gave no notice to the two who had come to her aid. Fenris’ blood ran cold as he approached her, kneeling down to keep her still. 

“Hawke, I’m here, what’s wrong? What’s wrong? Hawke!” He pleaded, but she paid him no mind, her arms flailing against his chest, letting blood from her palms trickle down her wrist and smear against his tunic. 

"NO!!" She screamed in a daze. "GET AWAY! GET AWAY!! MOTHER, HELP!!" Unable to calm her, Fenris glanced around the room. No open windows, no sign of any intruders. She began to claw at him in a frenzy, but the elf secured her wrists.

"Bodahn, do something! Get- get Varric, or-"

“Messere, just keep her calm, I’ll go retrieve Anders!” Bodahn said then made quickly for the door. “Don’t let her hurt herself!”

Fenris turned to watch him fly off down the stairs, both panic and confusion twisting on his face. But he hardly had time to react to that, as he had to get her off of the floor and away from the glass. Hawke’s face was completely flushed red from the screaming, her long curly hair disheveled and matted against her face. There were bags under her eyes that were deep-set against her pale complexion. Fenris reached under her legs and hoisted her back into bed as her screams turned into heavy sobbing and hyperventilation.

Unsure what to do, Fenris sat next to her and stroked her hair. She lay there, weeping like a child, but showed no signs of stopping. It was though she didn’t even seem to be completely present- Hawke wasn't there. His Hawke wasn't there. It fucking scared him. Afraid to leave for even a moment, he pressed the fabric of his shirt against the wounds on her hands. There were bloodstains smudged into the oversized blouse she wore and down her bare, shivering legs. He wiped those off too.

"What happened, Hawke? Why didn't you tell me?" He asked softly. "Do you hate me now?"

Hawke could not respond, only stare at the ceiling, weeping. Her chest rose and fell quickly. Her eyes and nose and mouth leaked and her breath hitched. It resembled something he knew too well. A feeling of weakness and depravity, from when he was enslaved. The torment that would eat at your brain for years to come. Fenris loved her so much- but it truly took all of his willpower to be in this room with her now.

He honestly could not believe what he was seeing. A strong, extremely proud woman reduced to such a state. In fact, before now, he had not seen her so bare and as helpless as he was. Not even when they took Bethany away. She was a warrior, ruthless and unafraid to make hard choices. He had never known her to be anything but, in the eyes of the public. Hawke hid her demons so well. Even as she spoke of what haunted her, Fenris never imagined they would manifest like this

After a short, agonizing while, Fenris finally began to hear the sound of the door opening and shutting. Several voices called out to him, then he eagerly watched as Bodahn, Anders, and Aveline paced into the room together and the fear suddenly left him. It was replaced by outrage. 

“Does someone care to tell me what the bloody hell is going on,” Fenris growled lowly. “She’s been screaming like she saw the Black City up close.”

With a pained expression, Aveline came towards the two. She seemed like she had quickly rolled straight out of bed at Bodahn’s call. Her hairband was uncharacteristically missing and she clearly had no time to throw on her armor. She was dressed only in a loose white top, leathers and a sword at her hip. “Fenris. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

“Just tell me what is going on, Aveline,” the elf said, venom in his words as he motioned with his chin to the sordid, ghastly Anders. His hair was down and greasy, and craters bore into his under eyes. The mage carried himself somewhat against his staff as if it helped him stay upright. “And why is this bastard here?

“To help, Fenris,” Aveline replied diplomatically. “Hawke’s been having night terrors. Bad ones, like tonight.” She shifted to Hawke’s bedside and Fenris stood up so that the guard captain could throw her covers back over the top of her. Bodahn had started at the glass on the floor, trying to stay out of their way in the process.

“I’ve been using some spirit magic. It’s been helping.” Anders began, calmly. He could feel the tension rising to choke the mage by the neck. As much as he enjoyed rising to meet it on any other occasion, Anders knew better than to start an argument in the middle of Hawke’s Estate at a time like this. “If you could just let me take a look at her…”

Fenris did not have the same idea. He spit back immediately, “Don’t come any closer! You’ve been using magic to addle her mind? Are you fucking insane?”

“If only so that she could get some sleep, you brute,” Anders retorted. “Andraste's sake, you haven’t seen how bad she’s-”

“Both of you, lower your voices,” Aveline said through her teeth. She had a bandage to Hawke’s hand while she lay there, staring into space with soft muffled sobs still leaving her.

Fenris turned back to glower at Aveline. “And YOU. How could you keep this from me? I thought you wanted what's BEST for her.”

The captain sighed and looked up at Fenris sternly. “I think this is what is best for her. Ander’s is a healer and we trust him better than some Kirkwall medicine man. You don’t have to trust him, Fenris but the fact is that we’ve all been on board about this.”

“You’d have been helping too if we knew you wouldn’t react this way,” Anders said, working up the courage to move closer to Hawke. He sat beside her legs across from Aveline.

The elf took a few steps back, unsure of what to say. They all kept this from him? And to some extent...were they not right? What on earth was his alternative? He watched as Ander’s placed his palm over Hawke’s forehead, a blue glow softly lighting up her face. As it did, her breathing began to stabilize and her eyes shut again. She finally seemed to be at rest. One last tear trickled down her face and she was out just like that.

“I…...does she even have any idea what is going on?”

“Somewhat,” Aveline said as she tightened the bandage on Hawke’s hand. “She doesn’t remember waking up or the screaming. Just her nightmares. You should be thanking Anders, Fenris. He hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep in weeks.”  
“It’s fine, Aveline,” Anders stammered, “You know he wouldn’t understand anyway. When someone needs help, you don’t run away.”

Something in throat turned into a lump. He clenched his teeth, strain in his expression becoming evident on his face. Ander's accusations made Fenris want to crush his head against a wall- but showing restraint felt necessary. Even if restraint only felt like a defeat in the moment. Instead of responding further, the elf quickly moved passed the both of them and out of the door.

“Clearly I'm not needed," he uttered, a seething rage eeking from his unforgiving tone. The rest of the current company could hear the entrance door slam shut.

Aveline scowled at Anders. "Son of a bitch, did you have to antagonize him??"

"Forget him. It’s done." Ander's responded, not taking his eyes off of Hawke. A furrow bent into his brow as he stared at her sleeping form. His stress lines were beginning to mar his skin. The mage cupped his hand to her face. "This is more important."

Aveline examined him in greater detail. He was due for a sodding nap. "I think it's time you got some sleep, Anders. Have you seen yourself? I'm beginning to worry."

He chucked. "Worried about an apostate like me? Pulling my leg, Avie?" Anders moved his hand to Hawke’s hand and a dim, green light pulsated between them. Just enough magic to make it not hurt when she woke up.

"Not what I meant. And don't call me that." If she didn't think he would fall right over, she would have socked him. "I don't remember a night you haven't been here."

Bodahn perked up for the glass, just as he finished sweeping it into a pile. "She's right, Messere. I could fix you a few blankets in the study if you'd like. You should stay for a while."

Anders shook his head, but a weak smile bent onto his weary mug. "I much prefer my cold little Darktown hovel. Reminds me of the deep roads. And besides, I don't need Sandal speaking gibberish at me again. Kinda weirds me out. No offense Bodahn."

"None taken, Messere but I do insist!" He made for one of Hawke's closets and began to reach inside, pulling out bundles of quilts.

Aveline let a sturdy hand to his shoulder, which moved him like a branch to a strong gust of wind. "You should stay, get some rest. Really."

Truth be told, the mage was even too exhausted to argue. He reached for the staff he had set beside him on the bed and used it to pick himself up. "I suppose counting a few sheep wouldn't hurt," he complied. 

Seeing that everything was in order, Aveline parted ways and began back to her home and husband. A grateful Anders collapsed to a mess on a pile of quilts and blankets in front of the fireplace in the study. It took almost no time at all for him to find sleep, and for once, he didn't have much reason to be scared to. Tonight, he would lock the worries deep inside. Justice swirled and melded with him but he was too tired to fight it tonight. Pushing against it on no sleep would not save him from inevitable outcomes.

On the table was Fenris' letter still resting, untouched. It was a simple note with questionable handwriting scrawled on half a sheet of parchment. It read:

‘Hawke. I shouldn't have stayed away. I want to talk if you do. I hope you are well. I will always help when you need it.

I am sorry for everything. Please forgive me. Fenris.’


End file.
